


The One Where Deadpool Doesn't Like Lemons

by Orcusnox (Cat9894)



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types, spideypool - Fandom
Genre: M/M, Mature just in case, OOC, apparently, dubcon?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-15
Updated: 2016-04-10
Packaged: 2018-05-26 21:30:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6256618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cat9894/pseuds/Orcusnox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The prompt I found was "Flirted with each other to steal their wallet AU", so this is me. Trying to prompt... And mostly failing?</p><p>(I mean, I went <i>so</i> off-script it's not even funny anymore? I hope you enjoy anyway.)</p><p>I'm not apologizing for the ending.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Meeting

    Peter Parker was tired. He had several assignments due in the next few days, and had grown increasingly worried when he simply couldn’t find the time to get them done. Between his nightly patrols as Spiderman and his weekend hours at the Bugle, not to mention the Tuesday and Thursday evenings he spent with Aunt May, and the hours spent doing shopping and house work and on college work…

    So yes, Peter was exhausted. But that didn’t mean his guard was down. He spun, catching the wrist attached to the fingers trying to sneakily remove his wallet from the back pocket of his jeans in an iron grip. There may not have been much money inside the wallet, but he’d worked hard for it and he wasn’t about to let some thief rob him.

    If he used a little bit of his super-strength, no one had to know.

    “Listen, you picked the wrong guy to try and –” Peter began, sounding appropriately tired and annoyed, but he stopped when he finally processed what – or rather _who_ – he was seeing. “ _Deadpool_?” he said incredulously, voice jumping an octave in surprise, releasing the mercenary’s wrist reflectively.

    Deadpool rubbed his wrist, his mask scrunched up in an absent sort of confusion. But when Peter said his name, the expression was wiped away, replaced with a very familiar shit-eating grin that made Peter want to punch him.

    “You _know_ me!” the mercenary shouted, sounding abnormally pleased. “And ouch, that hurt. Surprising, given your general twinkiness. But life is full of surprises. Also lemons. Have you got a lemon in your bag?” Deadpool frowned again. “I don’t like lemons. They’re too sour – they remind me of Wolvie!”

    Peter took a step away from Deadpool, which was a stupid move because he immediately caught the other man’s attention.

    “Hey, baby boy, where you going? We were just getting to know each other.” Deadpool… Winked? “You’re not going to leave me all alone in this big city, right? I might get lost and _die_!”

    “You’ll come back,” Peter replied dryly. His brain was telling him to shut up, so naturally he continued. “You always do. Like a bad case of the flu.”

    Deadpool threw back his head and laughed. “You know how to make a girl feel special.” He cocked his head, regarding Peter with narrowed eyes. It was odd, being under Deadpool’s scrutiny as Peter Parker. Slightly terrifying, if he was being honest. “You know, I could swear I’ve seen your lips before,” he muttered.

    Peter stopped breathing. The two had teamed up often enough that taco nights were inevitable, and there was no way Peter could eat with his mask down (although Deadpool managed well enough… Maybe he had a hole in his mask?)

    Deadpool clapped his hands, nodding furiously to himself. “Right! I remember where!” Peter swallowed nervously – surely he couldn’t recognize Peter was Spiderman. “I’m at least 100% sure I’ve seen those lips in a porno. Wrapped around some guy’s –”

    Peter made a squeaking sound of alarm, a blush spreading across his face and down his throat. “No!” he shouted, clearing his throat quickly and muttering a quick apology to the concerned looking passersby. “I mean. Please don’t.”

    Deadpool bounced forward, invading Peter’s personal space and leering down at him. “Oh, that’s a pretty blush. How far does it go, I wonder?”

    Peter jerked away, eyes warily tracking Deadpool’s movements. “You have no chance of finding out,” he replied automatically.

    Deadpool paused, cocking his head to the side as though listening to someone. “You’re right,” he muttered. “He’s weird.”

    Peter blinked. “Who’s weird?”

    “You. You know who I am. Why aren’t you at least a little bit scared?”

    Swallowing noisily, Peter thought up and discarded several hastily put together excuses and settled for the truest one he could manage at the moment. “You’re not wearing any weapons,” he said.

    And it was true – Deadpool was practically _naked_. Weapon wise, anyway. The katanas Deadpool fondly referred to as ‘his babies’ were conspicuously absent from their sheaths, and the guns he usually had on him were also missing. Peter couldn’t even see the handles of the knives Deadpool usually kept in his boots.

    “I don’t need weapons to kill you,” Deadpool pointed out, almost sounding cheerful. “And if that’s _not_ where I’ve seen your mouth,” he added, taking a menacing step forward, “the question remains.”

    Peter stumbled back a step. “Lots of questions remain,” he said desperately. “Like why you tried to steal my wallet. Last time I checked, you killed people for money. _A lot_ of money. You’re a mercenary, not a thief.”

    Deadpool paused. “He makes a good point,” he said to himself. “I am _not_ a thief. Thieves are nasty little money stealing pricks. I run them through. When I get paid for it.”

    “So then why did you try and steal from _me_?” Peter asked.

    “Well, see, funny thing. I wasn’t trying to steal your wallet.” Deadpool shrugged. “I have _lots_ of money.”

    Peter was very confused. “But you _were_ ,” he insisted, because why else would Deadpool be putting his fingers into Peter’s back pocket?

    He got it a moment later, just before Deadpool explained it.

    “Dat ass,” Deadpool said, almost reverently. And that was really all the explanation Peter needed.

    “You were trying to touch _my ass_?” Peter demanded, his voice high and squeaky. “Are you _serious_?”

    Deadpool grinned. “Sure am. It’s criminal to _not_ tap that. Not quite as nice as Spidey’s ass, maybe. But a _very_ close second.” Deadpool made grabby hands, and Peter took another step back.

    “No,” he said firmly. “A very hard, very solid, no take-backsies _no_.”

    “Aw c’mon! What’s with all you people with nice asses?” Deadpool threw his hands into the air. “Spidey won’t let me touch, you won’t let me touch… The world is an unfair place! I wanna touch,” he whined.

    “And I,” Peter replied, “would like to go home. Unmolested. And with all my limbs intact.”

    Deadpool was silent for another long moment. “Can I keep you?” he whispered, voice low and earnest. “I really, really want to keep you!”

    “That would be another hard, solid no.”

    “That’s not the only thing that’s hard and solid right now,” Deadpool replied with another wink.

    Peter took a fortifying breath. “I’m going to leave now,” he said, as calmly as possible. “And you can go… Wherever it was that you were going before you started this.” Peter turned around, his back to the mercenary, and had only a moment to regret the fact that he’d _turned his back on Deadpool_ before he turned back around.

    “And _please_ ,” Peter added, noticing that the other man hadn’t moved an inch, “don’t follow me home?”


	2. Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deadpool takes Peter on a date.

    “Whatcha taking pictures of, bubble butt?”

    The loud, rude voice made Peter jump, jerking around to stare wide-eyed at the intimidating figure of Deadpool. Unlike their encounter two weeks ago, the mercenary had all his weapons, and Peter swallowed noisily as he blinked at the man.

    Deadpool bounced over to him, throwing a strong arm around his shoulders. “You’re Peter Parker!” he exclaimed, and Peter’s stomach dropped. “I was _totally_ surprised to find out that the nice piece of ass from the train was Spidey’s personal photographer! You have _got_ to tell me your secret!”

    Peter swallowed again, trying to discreetly wriggle out from Deadpool’s hold. “Secret?” he repeated nervously.

    The mercenary nodded furiously, dragging Peter through the park. “Yeah, you and Spidey must have a secret workout routine to make your asses look so fantastic!”

    Peter frowned. “Acrobatics,” he said.

    “Say what now?”

    “Acrobatics,” Peter repeated. “That’s the secret.”

    Deadpool considered that, keeping his arm wrapped around Peter’s shoulders. “That makes so much sense,” he said. “Because Spidey’s always leaping around and shit! Swinging to and fro… Do your balls hang low do they wobble to and fro?”

    Peter cleared his throat. “Um, maybe a little late, but where are you taking me? And can you please, well, _not_?”

    Deadpool pouted. “Aw, but baby boy, daddy’s just trying to take care of you.”

    “I don’t need to be taken care of – Where are we going?” Peter exclaimed, using a little more strength to try and free himself.

    “It’s date day!” Deadpool squealed.

    “Um.” Peter blinked several times, almost falling on his face when Deadpool jerked him down another street unexpectedly, saved by his spider grace. “Um, no. No. _No_!”

    Deadpool cocked his head, and even with the mask on Peter could see his quizzical expression. “It’s not date day? Aw man, we were so excited!” He tilted his head in the opposite direction, apparently listening to someone. “True. C’mon Petey, we’ve missed so many date days already!”

    Peter froze, blood draining from his face. “What did you call me?” he asked weakly, praying that he’d heard wrong even as his stomach knotted itself tighter and tighter.

    “Petey, but I can use a different nickname if you want. Pete, baby boy, snookums, Pumpkin Eater…”

    “That’s not the issue,” Peter managed to get out.

    Deadpool turned down another street. “What’s the ish?”

    “ _We_ ,” Peter said sharply, gesturing between the two of them even as he stumbled along beside Deadpool, “have met _once_. One time. And on that single occasion, I did not give you my name.”

    Actually, now that he thought about it, Deadpool had started out with that. And he hadn’t noticed. _Why_ hadn’t he noticed? And _why_ was he only freaking out about the fact that the mercenary knew his name _now_?

    “… Ah…”

    “Don’t _ah_ me!” Peter snapped. “How in the – How do you know my _name_?”

    Deadpool scratched his head, pulling Peter to a stop. “I also know where you live,” he said helpfully, before throwing his arms wide. “We’re _here_!”

    ‘Here’ turned out to be a very familiar take-out place – familiar because Peter often sat on the roof while Deadpool went inside and ordered. That’s right – ‘here’ was the same Mexican place Spiderman and Deadpool stopped at during patrols to get tacos.

    Peter was screwed.

    “Here?” he asked, voice steady despite the nervous butterflies slamming into the walls of his stomach. Peter, as Spiderman, may have mentioned at one point that there was only one thing on the menu he could stand to eat.

    He was _so_ screwed.

 

* * *

* * *

 

 

    Peter glared at the _absolutely_ _disgusting and offensive_ piece of food in front of him. It didn’t even deserve to be called food. It was the unspeakable, the inedible, the _very last thing_ Peter would have gotten –

    “What’s the matter, baby boy?” Deadpool asked, rudely interrupting Peter’s internal monologue of the epitome of evil sitting almost innocently on the plate in front of him. “I thought you’d be hungry! You’re already skinny enough, you know.”

    Peter transferred his glare to Deadpool, noting that the mercenary had somehow managed to finish am obscene amount of his food in the space of a few minutes. He opened his mouth, about to point out that Deadpool didn’t _need_ to hide his face – he’d seen it before, after all – when he suddenly realized that he _wasn’t_ Spiderman right now. He was Peter Parker.

    “Skinny like a bean pole,” Deadpool added merrily.

    “I’m not skinny,” Peter said. “And I’m not hungry.”

    “Why’d you order then?”

    Peter blinked, thrown by the completely logical follow up. “Um. You don’t turn down free food.”

    Deadpool smacked his thigh. “Damn straight you don’t! One time, I was chatting to Spidey – have I mentioned I know him? Because I do! – anyway, I was chatting to Spidey and he said the _same thing_! And I was like, a man after my own heart! And then we went back to my place and got hot and heavy.”

    Peter spluttered wordlessly – _that_ had _never_ happened.

    “No wait, that was just a fantasy,” Deadpool muttered, and he sounded so disappointed that Peter almost felt _sorry_ for the mercenary. “I can’t remember what we actually did. Maybe it was patrol?” He paused for a moment. “Nah, Spidey wouldn’t do that… You trying to tell me Spidey would _willingly_ go to a bar with me?”

    “Um,” Peter said – he really seemed to be saying that a lot in the other man’s presence. “Should I leave?”

    Deadpool jerked in his chair, hands disappearing under the table for a split second before the mercenary laughed. “No way, baby boy! I was just making stuff up, I get like that sometimes. Need to fill in the gaps of this here old memory.” He tapped his temple.

    Peter thought he could concentrate on the conversation better if there wasn’t a gun still pointed at him beneath the table. His spider sense was blaring loudly in his skull.

    “Are you not going to eat that?” Deadpool asked, and _finally_ Peter’s spider sense eased off. “You can have one of mine, if you want?”

    “Why did you bring me here?” Peter replied.

    “I told you – it’s date day!”

    Peter shook his head, bringing the food to his mouth and taking a bite before remembering that it was _evil_ and _disgusting_. He gagged, resisting the urge to spit it back out and instead swallowing it down. He took a long swallow from his drink, doing his best to wash the taste from his mouth.

    Deadpool regarded him with his head tilted to one side. “You okay, Petey-pie?”

    “This isn’t a _date_ ,” Peter replied frostily. “You… You _kidnapped_ me!”

    Deadpool scoffed. “Kidnapped? You’re dreaming. At best, I _borrowed_ you. It’s not like I’m going to be calling anyone, demanding a ransom. Like you pointed out, I don’t _need_ money.”

    “This isn’t a date,” Peter maintained. He took another unthinking bite of his food.

    _Frick frack!_ It tasted  _horrible_. Miserably, Peter took another mouthful of his drink. He sensed something move and glared at Deadpool suspiciously. The masked mercenary whistled innocently.

    "What did you do?" Peter asked, eyes narrowed.

    "Nothing!" the larger man squeaked. "Anyway, I gotta dash! Enjoy your taco!" Deadpool was at the door before Peter could respond. "Catch you on the flip side, mother fuckers!" he shrieked before disappearing out the door.

    Peter heaved a sigh. He didn't know how to handle the mercenary, that much was certain. He turned to glare at his food, only to blink in surprise. Sitting in front of him was  _not_ the evil, offensive piece of food he'd ordered. Instead, it was a perfectly edible pile of delicious goodness - the kind Peter always ordered as Spiderman.

    "Oh no," he breathed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaand I did another chapter. Bow before me, mortals.
> 
> There'll probably be more, no promises though! Let me know what you think!
> 
> I like smart Wade. He's not an idiot, he's not stupid, and I hate when people write him as some doofus. Makes me _angry_...


	3. Blackmail

    Peter was kicking Rhino’s stupid metal backside the next time he saw Deadpool. The sight of the mercenary appearing _literally out of nowhere_ had Peter frozen long enough for Rhino to get in a very, very nice hit – one that sent Peter flying straight into Deadpool.

    “Wow, you literally threw yourself at me!” Deadpool exclaimed, his huge hands inexplicably gentle on Peter’s hips as he set him on his feet.

    “Actually, that was Rhino,” Peter said. “He threw me at you.”

    Deadpool grinned. “Want daddy to take care of the bully, baby boy?”

    Peter glared up at the mercenary. “I have it under control,” he snapped, mostly ignoring the warmth seeping from Deadpool’s hands. Which were still on his hips. He should do something about that.

    “He is beauty, he is grace! He will lie straight to your face.” Deadpool pulled away, a katana sliding free from its sheath with a noise that made the hairs along the back of Peter’s neck stand on end. “What if I promised I wouldn’t kill him? Just play around a little.”

    “Put the sword away, Deadpool,” Peter sighed. “I’m _fine_.”

    His spider sense screamed a warning, and Peter dropped instinctively, dodging the blow that likely would have separated his head from his body.

    “I kill you!” Rhino screamed, fury written in the pulsing vein in his forehead.

    “You know, you’ve been trying to do that for a while now,” Peter replied, dodging another blow and moving to scale the nearest wall. “So far, I’m feeling distinctly underwhelmed.”

    “You will die!” Rhino replied furiously. “You will both die!”

    Deadpool laughed. “Good luck with that, pal! _So_ many people have tried.”

    “If you’re not careful, _I’ll_ try,” Peter snapped.

    “Careful, baby boy – I know your _secret_!” Deadpool grinned, and Peter stumbled, only barely dodging Rhino’s punch. “ _Acrobatics_ , Spidey. Acrobatics.”

    Peter snarled quietly to himself. The fricking _asshole_ knew, and he was _making fun_ of Peter! Hell, he was probably going to _sell_ Peter’s identity to the highest bidder.

    This time, when Rhino rushed him, Peter made sure that his fist slammed into the villain’s mostly uncovered face. He put a lot more strength than usual into the punch it too, so that when Rhino landed on his back, he landed _hard_. So hard, in fact, that the road beneath him cracked and broke.

    Deadpool let out a whistle, clapping slowly. “Nice punch, Spidey,” he said. “Didn’t know you had it in you.”

    Peter ignored the mercenary, breaking apart the suit quickly and methodically before yanking the very unconscious man from the suit. He webbed the Rhino securely to the nearest street sign.

    “I really like you being all silent and stuff, Spidey,” Deadpool said, “but it’s making me _really_ question how mad you are because boy, you seem mad. And while I’m not _entirely_ sure why, I’m sure it’s somehow my fault. And I don’t want you to punch me, because that looked like it _hurt_!”

    Still, Peter ignored him. He walked away from the still babbling man and spoke with the police on the scene in a low, serious tone that made everyone stand up a little straighter. He made sure to remind the police to _keep Aleksei away_ from the mechanized suit, and then for good measure Peter went back to the Rhino, who was still webbed to the street sign but was beginning to wake up, and knocked him out again.

    Before he could do anything else (he was actually planning to completely tear the stupid suit apart), a very muscular arm wrapped around his throat, pulling him off balance and dragging him backwards.

    “Spidey, I don’t like being ignored,” Deadpool said, his tone conversational. “It’s why I talk all the time, you know. Not that I am anything but a social butterfly, of course! But ignoring a lady when she’s talking, now, that’s _rude_.”

    “Let go,” Peter snapped, digging his fingers into the muscles of Deadpool’s arm. “Seriously, Deadpool, I’m not in the mood.”

    “Not in the mood for some hot angry sex? Aw, sugar, but I was _so_ looking forward to it.” Deadpool turned abruptly, pulling Peter into a narrow alley. He spun and pressed Peter against the cold stone wall, pinning his arms at an awkward angle that made Peter’s super strength absolutely _useless_.

    “Deadpool,” Peter growled, lashing out with his feet.

    “Oh, feisty!” Deadpool said, and Peter jerked when he realized just how close the mercenary was. The man’s masked head was resting on his shoulder, nose almost brushing along Peter’s cheek. “Me likey!”

    “ _Deadpool_ ,” Peter repeated warningly.

    “Now, it seems to me that you need to get something off your chest,” Deadpool continued, completely ignoring Peter. “So, why don’t you just tell little old Deadpool what’s the matter, snookums?”

    Peter wriggled a little bit more before slumping in defeat. He clenched his jaw, feeling the ache in his teeth and he gritted them _almost_ too hard. He wondered, in an absent sort of way, if his shattered teeth would grow back.

    “You’re being awful quiet, Spidey,” Deadpool noted.

    “Do you know who I am?” Peter demanded, voice tight and sharp and way too terrified. He gritted his teeth again, hands curling into fists that he dearly wished he could use.

    He could practically _hear_ the smug smirk on Deadpool’s face. “Course I know who you are! You’re Spiderman! Andrew Garfield ain’t got nothing on you.”

    Peter hissed out a noise that maybe would have sounded more threatening if his face wasn’t smushed against a brick wall. “ _That’s not what I meant, and you fucking know it_ ,” he snarled, breaking his no swearing run in spectacular fashion.

    But Peter would like to think he had deserved a break. Sometimes, he needed to let off some steam. And things had been happening lately, things that made his anger simmer and burn a little brighter each time. Made it a little harder for Peter to control.

    By now, Peter was something of a master of control. He needed to be, because one wrong move could accidentally send someone to hospital – or kill them. His strength was no joke, and he had _almost_ been too rough with Rhino.

    A fact that had, apparently, not escaped Deadpool’s notice.

    Deadpool gasped dramatically. “Spidey, you _swore_! I never knew you had a potty mouth! I wonder what else I could do to make that kind of language come out of your mouth, hmm?”

    Peter felt the mercenary lean even closer, blanketing the entirety of his back with stifling heat. He was really hoping that the thing poking into his spine was a cod piece.

    “Peter,” Deadpool breathed, hardly adding any sound to the name. Peter froze anyway, heart rate picking up furiously. “Woah! I can feel your heartbeat,” Deadpool sang quietly, pulling back again. “Calm down there, baby boy. Don’t want to give yourself a heart attack.”

    “Let me go,” Peter said, trying to ignore the hitch in his breathing. He had to get out, he had to make sure Aunt May was alright… How was he supposed to protect himself from _Deadpool_? Maybe he should go talk to Stark…

    “But baby boy, I _like_ this position,” Deadpool murmured.

    “If you don’t let me go,” Peter said, an edge to his voice he’d never heard, “I will rip your head off so we can see once and for all if your body will grow a new head, or if your head will grow a new body. Capisce?”

    “If you’re done making useless threats that you have no intention, not to mention _hope_ , of completing,” Deadpool said, sounding bored, “then I suggest we move along to the price I will be asking for the great pains I will take to continue being the only person in the world who knows Spidey’s secret identity.”

    Peter’s mind ground to a halt. “You’re _blackmailing_ me?” he demanded.

    “Is that what I’m doing? I think that’s what I’m doing. Am I doing it wrong? Should I be more threatening? Less threatening? Should knives be involved, or guns? Because baby boy, I have knives. And guns.”

    “Why are you _blackmailing_ me?” Peter asked. “I have _nothing_? I don’t – I can’t give you anything!”

    “Actually, there are several things you could give me, all pleasurable. Something I’m thinking of right now familiarizes your mouth with a certain part of my anatomy.”

    It took him a moment. “I’m not giving you a blowjob,” Peter hissed, blush spreading across his cheeks faster than he’d ever thought possible.

    “Oh boy, I’m wondering again how far that blush goes.”

    If anything, Peter’s blush only got worse. “I’m not blushing!”

    Deadpool chuckled. “ _Sure_ you’re not. I already know it goes down your neck – you have a nice neck, by the way. It’s all long and graceful, and a really nice kind of pale… Makes me want to leave a mark.” He laughed again, low and dangerous. Peter’s stomach kicked in response. “I’ll bet it goes down to your chest. Maybe not as far down as your nipples, which I _bet_ are really fucking nice –”

    “Stop!” Peter shouted. “Please just. Stop.”

    “Aw, snookums, you getting shy on me?”

    Peter flexed his fingers. “Will you let me down?”

    “Not until we have ourselves a deal!” Deadpool said cheerfully.

    “…”

    “I was thinking, since you can’t exactly say no, of requesting to see you naked,” Deadpool said thoughtfully. “But that sounds a bit… _Meh_.”

    Peter was, unfortunately, confused. “So you _don’t_ want to see me naked?” he asked before he could give his question the appropriate amount of thought.

    “Of course I do, baby boy! But I don’t really think it’s appropriate, you know? Makes me feel kind of sleazy.”

    Now Peter was downright flabbergasted. “You’re blackmailing me, Deadpool. That doesn’t make you feel sleazy?”

    “Nope.”

    “But blackmailing me into being naked does?”

    “Yep.”

    Peter tried to process that. “I don’t get it,” he admitted. “How is one okay and one not?”

    “I want a kiss!” Deadpool exclaimed, and Peter realized he was purposely ignoring him. “One that goes for more than twenty seconds!”

    Peter spluttered. “That’s not a kiss – that’s a make out session!”

    Deadpool nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah, one of them!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um. 
> 
> So. 
> 
> I'm not entirely sure what happened here... In any case, I can't just leave it like this, right? I need to fix these boys up *aggressive nodding* So you get another chapter. One. Last. Chapter.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed? *throws hands into the air and flees*


	4. The Great Exchange

    “I’m _not_ making out with you,” Peter said firmly. “I don’t care what you think you can blackmail me with, I won’t be forced into kissing you!”

    Deadpool leaned back in. “Want me to tell you where you live, Spidey?” he asked quietly.

    Peter made a frustrated sound. “Why are you _doing_ this?”

    “I don’t really think I’ve ever blackmailed someone into making out with me before,” Deadpool replied contemplatively. “It’s on my bucket list. Plus, I figure it’s either blackmail you or you come after me with all of your super freaky strength. I mean, you totally KO’d that Rhino guy, and I _know_ you’ve never taken him down that easily.”

    “I guess it was just something about your irritating self that made me want to get away from you as fast as possible,” Peter snapped back.

    Deadpool snorted. “And yet, here we are. In an alley. Together. Discussing the details of our transaction.”

    “This is _not_ a discussion,” Peter hissed. “And it isn’t a _transaction_ either!”

    “Sure it is,” Deadpool disagreed. “You want something I have to remain in my possession and not get passed on to anyone else. I want something in return.”

    “I’d much rather have you forget entirely.”

    “Not gonna happen. Writer says no. This isn’t one of those fics where I _conveniently_ forget important things.”

    “What are you even talking about?”

    Deadpool hummed. “Spoilers,” he muttered. “Look, Spidey. The way I see it, you have two choices: one, I can let you go right now and you’ll pummel me to next week. Which I guess would be great for you but not so great for me. And I’m all about looking out for number one. Number one being _me_. Or two, you and I can come to an arrangement, where you give me something and I keep your secrets.

    “The problem with option one,” he continued, fingers flexing, digging into the muscles of Peter’s arms, “is that if you _do_ beat me up, I’ll fight back. And you’re not as durable as me. An additional problem is that I would be more inclined to open my mouth about Spidey’s personal deets to a crowd of his adoring fans. Except there’ll be less fans and more… Dance partners? And we all _know_ it’s not yourself you’re trying to protect by keeping your identity secret, right Spidey?”

    The subtle threat in Deadpool’s voice was enough to make Peter’s heart rate spike again. His spider sense was singing merrily in his head, and Peter wanted to shout at it that he _knew_ he was in trouble. But behind all the fear and anger – how _dare_ Deadpool ask for a favour like this? – Peter was confused.

    “Option two? I see no problems. Twenty seconds of your life and you get to walk away knowing I won’t say shit. Because this is a fucking transaction in my mind, and I _do not_ mess around with transactions. I will take them to my _grave_.”

    There was something Peter was missing. Something in the earnest way Deadpool was trying to make him agree. But he couldn’t figure out _what_ it was.

    He huffed out an exasperated noise. “How long are you planning on holding me here?” he demanded. “You’ll get tired eventually.”

    “No, I won’t,” Deadpool replied easily. “Healing factor, baby boy. Plus, you weigh maybe ten pounds? I carry around _guns_ heavier than you for entire missions. You need to eat more, Spidey. Catch some more flies in your web. Or something.”

    Peter decided to ignore that. “And you’re really not going to let me down if I don’t agree?” he asked.

    “No can do, baby boy. Transactions are _very_ important.”

    The thing Peter was missing remained frustratingly out of his grasp. He sighed. “Twenty seconds?” he checked.

    Deadpool made an excited noise. “More than, Spidey. More than. But once the kiss is over, my lips are _sealed_.”

    “Do we have to… I don’t know, shake on it?”

    “You wanna shake on it?”

    “I just want it over and done with.”

    Deadpool flipped him so that his back was pressed against the wall. With his feet flat on the ground, Peter had to crane his head back to look at the mercenary. He didn’t actually think he’d ever been this close to the other man (not including those moments as Peter Parker).

    “Masks gotta be up,” Deadpool said quietly, his fingers tapping along the bottom of his mask. “Will you do me the honour letting me see those pretty lips of yours, Spidey?”

    Peter felt the blush colouring his face. “Shut up,” he said, half-heartedly because he was still trying to figure out _what he was missing_. But he rolled his mask up all the same.

    “Hello pretty lips,” Deadpool cooed, before ripping his own mask up and leaning down to kiss Peter.

    Everything was going fine. Five, six, seven seconds, and the kiss was easy. A press of lips against lips, noses pressed a little uncomfortably. A little shift, and kiss was a little bit better – tense lips relaxed, noses realigned, a hand came up to cup Peter’s jaw.

    Everything was going fine until Deadpool swiped Peter’s bottom lip with his tongue.

    Peter made a startled noise, mouth opening in a gasp, and Deadpool dived in. His tongue coaxed Peter’s into an intimate dance that left Peter breathless. His arms were somehow wrapped around Deadpool’s neck, pulling the mercenary closer until he’d successfully pressed them together.

    Deadpool groaned into Peter’s mouth, licking along Peter’s teeth like he’d just found the taste of heaven in his mouth. Peter sucked in another startled breath when Deadpool’s teeth closed gently over his bottom lip, tugging gently.

    Deadpool’s mouth, Peter discovered, tasted strongly of the tacos he always ordered and, oddly enough, mint. Peter could taste the scars on the inside of his cheeks. Peter pressed up mindlessly with his hips, moaning breathlessly when he felt one of Deadpool’s hands reach down to cup his ass.

    He wasn’t _supposed_ to want this. He wasn’t _supposed_ to be enjoying this. This was a _transaction_. Something he needed to do to keep his identity a secret, to keep Aunt May and Gwen and everyone else who knew him safe.

    Those thoughts were brushed aside with each sure swipe of Deadpool’s tongue, with each flash of teeth against his lips. When Deadpool broke the kiss to trail his mouth down Peter’s throat, Peter felt his head tip back accommodatingly.

    Deadpool sucked a bruise into the skin of his throat – and Peter abruptly remembered his words from earlier.

    _“…you have a nice neck, by the way. It’s all long and graceful, and a really nice kind of pale… Makes me want to leave a mark.”_

    Peter shivered, his cock twitching in the confines of the cup stitched into his suit. Heat pooled in his lower body, making him squirm against the solid body trapping him against the wall. Deadpool nipped at his throat, a low growl rumbling through his chest, and Peter shuddered, his head tilting back even further. The hand on his ass squeezed.

    There was a sharp exclamation, a muffled warning from his spider sense and then the loud click of a camera going off. The next second, Peter found himself dropped like a hot potato as Deadpool vanished, no doubt chasing whoever it was that had been stupid enough to take a picture and get busted.

    After a brief period of sitting on the cold concrete, wondering what _the hell_ was wrong with him, Peter pushed himself back to his feet with a heavy sigh. He didn’t particularly want to delve into the particulars of what had _just_ transpired, because he had a feeling it would lead to a conclusion he was _really_ not ready for.

    He pulled himself up onto the roof, pulling his mask back down. His lips tingled, and with a muffled curse Peter leapt away, heading for his apartment. Running away from his problems. Something he was _awesome_ at.

 

* * *

* * *

  

    Peter was half asleep when he heard the sound of his window being pried open.

    He sat up, fumbling for his glasses and the baseball bat Gwen had demanded he keep by his bed at all times. He had a sneaking suspicion as to who was breaking into his apartment, but better safe than sorry, right?

    Plus, Peter was really looking forward to hitting Deadpool with a baseball bat.

    He scrambled out of bed and snuck towards the front room, footsteps silent. A floorboard creaked, and Peter froze, eyes wide as he peered into the darkness.

    Hands abruptly emerged from the darkness, and with a startled yelp Peter swung the bat. The hands caught the bat – _wow, Peter, good going there, you idiot_ – and yanked it out of his hands.

    Or, they would have, but Peter’s sticky fingers had decided that no, they quite liked this baseball bat, thank you very much. And so when the hands – covered in very familiar gloves – pulled the bat, Peter came too.

    The end result was one mercenary flat on his back with a baseball bat in his hands and a half-naked college vigilante straddling his waist. The two men blinked at each other. Deadpool was, of course, the one to break the silence.

    “How forward of you, Petey,” he purred, abandoning his grip on the bat. His hands landed on Peter’s hips instead. “Not even going to offer me _coffee_? For realsies, though, I gotta say, the bat was a surprise.”

    “What are you doing here?” Peter hissed, slapping Deadpool’s hands away.

    Deadpool pouted, sitting up on his elbows. “Don’t you want to pick up where we left off, baby boy?”

    “No.” _Yes_. Peter shook his head and climbed off Deadpool, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Can you please just leave?”

    He opened his eyes, and Deadpool was upright, looming over him in a way that made his throat suddenly dry. “Are you _sure_ you want me to leave?” the mercenary asked, taking a slow step forward. Peter stumbled back, almost tripping over the couch in his haste to get back, get _away_.

    “ _Yes_ ,” he snapped. _No_ , shouted his treacherous body.

    Deadpool hummed thoughtfully, still advancing. There was something predatory about the way he moved, something distinctly _arousing_. Distracted, Peter sucked in a breath when his back hit something decidedly solid – a wall.

    Deadpool was on him in seconds. Peter made a slightly panicked sound when Deadpool’s lips pressed against his jaw. He went to move, to run, but Deadpool’s hands were back on his hips, pressing them into the wall.

    “I’m confused, Spidey,” the mercenary murmured, teeth dragging against Peter’s skin. “D’you want me to leave? Because I’m feeling a _little_ something – okay, I’m sorry, it’s not _that_ little – that makes me think you want me to stay.”

    Peter moaned when he felt Deadpool’s fingers stroking along his erection. Deadpool grinned.

    “It was just a – _ah_ – transaction,” Peter protested, arching into the hand stroking his cock through his pants.

    “That was a transaction,” Deadpool allowed, nipping at the corner of Peter’s lips. “For you. To feel safe.”

    Peter made a questioning noise that trailed off into a moan when Deadpool pressed his lips against Peter’s, licking into his mouth like he had a claim there. Peter shivered, kissing back, whining when Deadpool pulled back.

    “See, Spidey,” he continued, “I know people don’t trust me with things. I need to _prove_ it, you know? So, transactions. I mean, generally I would have given you something of equal value, but let’s be real.” He ground their hips together. “I don’t have anything worth half of what I have on you.”

    Peter gasped. “I – _ugh_ – don’t get _it_.”

    “I know _everything_ about you, baby boy,” Deadpool rumbled. “You have people you need to protect. I don’t have anything like that.” He kissed him fiercely, one hand wriggling down to cup his ass. Peter’s hands were clutching at the leather covering Deadpool’s chest.

    “So you thought ‘oh, I’ll just ask for a kiss’?” Peter demanded, incredulous.

    Deadpool huffed out a laugh. “I didn’t expect to be able to come back for seconds,” he purred.

    “Shut up, Deadpool,” Peter groaned, yanking Deadpool’s head back down so he could kiss him.

    “Wade,” the mercenary murmured. “Call me Wade.”

    Peter squeaked in alarm when Deadpool – _Wade_ – lifted him into the air. He wrapped his legs around Wade’s waist instinctively, clutching onto his shoulders while Wade walked through his apartment, apparently knowing exactly where he was going.

    His lips were fierce against Peter’s as he pushed open the bedroom door. The door slammed against the wall, and Wade laughed a little breathlessly.

    “Oops,” he whispered, licking a hot stripe up Peter’s neck.

    Peter whined, shamelessly rocking his hips against Deadpool’s – Wade’s – stomach. “Shut up, Wade,” he hissed, shudders running down his spine. “Don’t you have something else to be focusing on?”

    “Oh, _bossy_ ,” Wade said, sounding pleased. “I’m still celebrating the fact that I _finally_ got my hands on _this_.” He squeezed Peter’s ass pointedly. Peter moaned. "Took me far too long, in my opinion."

    "You're still  _talking_ ," Peter groaned. "I want you to shut up."

    "Sorry baby boy,  _that_ is never going to happen. And you've given me all the green lights I need to make this a night you are  _never_ going to forget."

    Peter huffed. "Maybe  _I'll_ make this a night  _you'll_ never forget," he replied, and Wade's mouth dropped open. The strangled sound he made in response had Peter smirking. 

    Deadpool – Wade – paused, as though something had just occurred to him, and tossed Peter onto the bed. “Wait one moment,” he said, before spinning to address Peter’s still open door. “Now, I know you were looking forward to reading about some smutty time, but this chapter has dragged on long enough and I am _notoriously_ shy. So, bye-bye perverts!”

    Wade slammed the door closed.

 

     _*readers stare blankly at the words “ **the end** ” and listen to the frankly indecent sounds coming from behind the closed bedroom door*_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah. I _did_ end it like that. _On purpose!_
> 
> *evil laughter*
> 
> No but seriously. I'm not changing it.
> 
> And yes, this is the _end_. Expect no more from this fic.


End file.
